


Home

by otppurefuckingmagic



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-12
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-21 21:12:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 6,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8260649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/otppurefuckingmagic/pseuds/otppurefuckingmagic
Summary: magnus disappears on a thursday. there’s too much alec remembers about that day.





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Darque](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darque/gifts).



> hey, loves. so this fic will be sixteen parts total. one part per day for sixteen days. then it will be complete!
> 
> i'm posting it on tumblr as well with gorgeous gif sets by the goddess @darquebane. they look much prettier there :) if you're on tumblr make sure to check them out [there](http://otppurefuckingmagic.tumblr.com/post/151704428386/home-ao3-part-one-1-2-3-4-5-6-7).
> 
> alright. here we go....

 

 

“There’s always time for indulgence, Alexander,” Magnus purrs in Alec’s ear as he sets a heaping plate in front of Alec.

It’s a Thursday and Magnus has made pancakes for breakfast. Blueberry with fresh whipping cream and slices of strawberry on the side.

But it’s Magnus himself who holds all of Alec’s attention.

There are beams of sunshine cascading through the windows of Magnus’ loft, illuminating flecks of dust that dance around Magnus’ graceful movements as he slides into the chair next to Alec.

Magnus wears one ring—an ornate gold band set with a rectangular cut tanzanite—which Alec picked out on a whim when he was on a mission. It’s the only piece of jewelry Magnus never takes off.

The facets of the blue gemstone catch the light as Magnus waves his hand. He’s speaking about strategy and plans—things Alec doesn’t want to think about right now. Plops of whipping cream drop from the fork Magnus is loosely holding between his fingers.

But Magnus is oblivious to the mess he’s making. His cat eyes focus solely on Alec.

Alec deftly sweeps the topping off the table, and leans forward to place a kiss on Magnus’ cheek. “I have to go now.”

He tries to stand, but Magnus tangles his hands in Alec’s shirt and pulls Alec onto his lap. Magnus’ hands delve under the hem of Alec’s shirt, and he whispers in Alec’s ear, begging him to stay for just five—“Okay, maybe _ten_ ”—more minutes.

Alec holds back a smirk.

“We’re at war,” Alec reminds him.

“Better that we go into battle stress-free then,” Magnus says as his hands grip Alec’s hips.

“Another indulgence?” Alec asks.

Magnus’ lips are sweet, his hands warm. The press of his fingers insistent.

So, of course, Alec stays.

It’s the only decision that day he doesn’t regret.


	2. Part Two

 

 

“I’ll portal to the Institute as soon as I’ve confirmed all the warlocks have made it to the safe house,” Magnus says.

“Work fast,” Alec urges him. He presses one last lingering kiss to Magnus’ lips and brushes an ink-black strand of hair off Magnus’ forehead. He reluctantly lets Magnus go and emerges from the building into sunshine.

Alec’s boots are new, too stiff, as he walks toward the Institute. But he doesn’t have time to break them in.

Valentine is coming.

He tilts his face to the sky, eyes open, and takes a deep breath. Indulging in this moment, in this time—a crisp blueness above him and wisps of white streaking across a canvas that stretches from horizon to horizon.

The sky is beautiful, and Alec needs to remember that beauty like this exists outside the four walls of Magnus’ loft.

He can’t forget what he’s fighting for.

He has to protect this world.

He has to bring Jace home and kill Valentine.


	3. Part Three

 

 

“Valentine is here, Alec!” Izzy shouts.

One hand dances across the screen in front of her. The other is clenched into a tight fist. Her hair is swept back into a braid. Whip circled around her wrist. Seraph blade on her hip.

Clary stands next to Izzy. Her jaw grinding, shoulders proudly snapped back. She’s facing her father today, but that only seems to have made her more determined to end this.

She, Clary, and the strongest of Idris’ forces are geared up. They’re ready for this battle.

But Alec is afraid.

He jabs at the red button on his cell screen to end another unanswered call, a murky darkness sliding through his veins.

“I can’t get ahold of Magnus,” he says to the Shadowhunter standing next to him. “Keep trying him until he answers. And get Catarina here in the meantime. We need a warlock to maintain the wards.”

Izzy grabs his arm, demands his attention. “Where is he, Alec?”

He didn’t expect to face Valentine without Magnus at his side. But that’s not what has Alec’s chest constricting, heartbeat thundering in his ears.

Magnus never leaves a call from Alec unanswered.

“I don’t know.”


	4. Part Four

 

 

The courtyard of the Institute is painted in blood.

Catarina stands in front of the door to the church, white hair whipping in her face as her power flows from her hands. She is where Magnus was supposed to be—keeping Valentine’s demonic forces from storming New York’s last Shadowhunter stronghold.

Alec waits for the bright purple burst of a portal, but it doesn’t come.

The blackness of his gear hides the red—the scent of copper overwhelming in his nose—but Alec’s hands are slippery with it. He’s killed too many men and women with angel blood today. And yet the one he wants dead more than any other is still on his feet.

“Now, Alec!” Izzy yells. She and Clary barrel forward, crashing into the line of soldiers that surround Valentine.

Alec steps back from the fray and notches a poisoned arrow. His hands vibrate with the snap of the bow. Valentine cries out as the arrow embeds in his shoulder, hands going for the shaft as if he’s going to yank it out. Instead, he clutches his stomach and doubles over.

The few of Valentine’s army left standing go deathly still as Valentine drops to his knees.

Alec’s boots slip in the chewed-up earth as he advances on Valentine.

“Where’s Jace?” he bellows.

He doesn’t recognize his own voice.

A violent shudder passes through Valentine.

“Interesting,” Valentine gasps. There’s a pink foam forming at the corner of his mouth. “More concern for your parabatai than your downworlder lover?”

The hair on Alec’s arm stands on end. “What are you talking about?”

Valentine smiles–his teeth are streaked with red.

Alec brings the tip of his seraph blade to Valentine’s chest, digging it in until there’s a line of blood dripping down Valentine’s gear. “I would know if they were dead.”

Valentine lifts his eyes to Alec. There is madness there, and hate, but Alec didn’t realize the hellish depths of it until now.

“You would know if your parabatai—my son—was no longer with us. But that warlock…. It was a true pleasure to take that half demon’s power by severing his hands from his body—”

Catarina wails.

Alec doesn’t think. He drives his seraph blade into Valentine’s heart.

“Alec!” Izzy screams. “What the hell are you doing? He’s the only one who knows where they are!”

But it’s too late. Valentine’s body is dropping to the ground, eyes unblinking.

Alec staggers back.

_The white of whipping cream on a stack of pancakes._

_The blue of Magnus’ ring casting prismatic visions on his kitchen walls._

_The gold-green of Magnus’ eyes intent on indulgences._

_The crimson of Valentine’s blood seeping into the mud._  


His life is an intricately braided cord composed of more colors than Alec ever could’ve imagined before he met Magnus—and right now it’s unraveling. Being pulled in too many directions—none of them the way he wants to go—and there are violent hands yanking on the ends, ripping each vital piece of Alec farther and farther apart.

“How are we going to find them?” Clary whispers, her seraph blade dropping to the ground.

Alec’s chest heaves.

“Could Magnus survive that?” he demands of Catarina. Pleads for the answer he needs to hear. “If Valentine really—”

His throat catches on the words. His stomach clenches painfully. He can’t finish that sentence.

Catarina’s blue skin is turned gray in the tracks of her tears. “He’s immortal, Alec, not unbreakable.”


	5. Part Five

 

 

It takes weeks to hunt down Valentine’s forces and bring an end to the war. Yet there’s still no sign of Jace.

Or Magnus.

The first time Alec makes his way back to Magnus’ loft, the sun is shrouded behind a bank of thick, rolling gray clouds.

The wards on Magnus’ loft have never kept him out, and they don’t today.

The apartment is empty. Untouched. Silent except for the reverberations of Alec’s boots as he treks through every room.

Magnus is the most powerful man he knows and there’s no indication of a fight.

Alec’s skin crawls, like a horde of pixies is raking their malicious hands down his spine.

He shivers and flips the light switch in the kitchen, blinking back the brightness that assaults his eyes. Their breakfast dishes are still on the table. A green-black mold staining the remnants of the last morning they spent together.

A vicious cold slides into Alec’s bones as he realizes…. Magnus didn’t even have time to magic up clean dishes before Valentine was on him.

In the minutes Alec was indulging in the warmth of the sun outside, Magnus was being attacked.

He slams his fist on the table, then shoves the silverware and plates to the floor. A cacophonous clattering echoes in his ears. The room is left appearing much more like the scene he expected to find.

“Where are you?” Alec rasps.

He can feel Jace. He knows his parabatai is in pain. And that alone is enough to drive him past the outer edges of sanity.

But Magnus too?

He sags into the chair where Magnus sat that Thursday morning. He lifts his hand to study the angry, red gashes that have split open on his knuckles. And there, in his peripheral vision….

A glint of blue in the midst of the detritus littering the floor.

He scrambles for the ring, knees crashing to the wood floor, and clasps it between his hands. Magnus never took this ring off. If any object will lead him to Magnus, then this one will be it. Alec activates his tracking rune and closes his eyes. He reaches out with his memories—with his love—fighting to grasp onto even one string of Magnus’ existence. It’s not the first time he’s tried to track Magnus, but the result is the same.

Nothing.

Another thread in the cord of Alec’s life unravels.

_The black of Magnus’ hair, soft against Alec’s fingertips as he brushed it back before he left that Thursday morning._

Alec slides the ring on his finger. He’ll keep it safe until Magnus returns.

He refuses to accept Magnus is gone.


	6. Part Six

 

 

Tessa comes to him one week later—her features drawn, a dress of pale violet flowing around her. Alec already knows what she’s going to say.

“No one in the Spiral Labyrinth can feel his magic anymore. There's nothing more we can do.”

Such a simple statement. As if Magnus is a blanket that’s fallen off in the middle of the night, and is now lost to the monsters that hide under the recesses of a child’s bed.

Alec twists the gold ring on his finger. Remains calm. “He’s not dead.”


	7. Part Seven

 

 

Warlocks from across the continent gather to agree upon a succession plan. While, usually, a warlock’s passing wouldn’t be marked at all—this is Magnus Bane.

They hold a party to honor Magnus’ memory and Alec attends because—as the acting head of the Institute and the Shadowhunter responsible for maintaining their current fragile peace—it’s expected of him.

He hears the whispers of the warlocks around him. Anger over the loss of one of the Downworld’s strongest defenses. Grief at an immortal life severed way too soon. Accusations of a nephilim conspiracy.

No one approaches Alec with words of comfort when he stands in front of the gray and black headstone situated above an empty grave.

But Alec doesn’t want them.

Magnus is going to come home.

He knows it.


	8. Part Eight

 

 

Alec walks into the command center of the Institute and stops short.

There are blue banners hanging from the ceiling. It’s been a month since Magnus disappeared, and Alec wants to hope.

But no, Magnus is a warlock—not a Shadowhunter—and these are rites reserved for nephilim who have returned.

Yet he can’t help but think of how Magnus always worked side by side with them. He created the wards that protect the Institute even now.

He is Alec’s soul’s companion. If Magnus has returned, then he deserves blue banners.

Alec’s heart skips a beat as a door opens and the banners flutter.

And it hits him. Does this mean…?

Izzy glides into the room, approaching him slowly.

Alec manages to find his voice. “Who are they for?”

Izzy’s smile is gaunt. As are her arms. Her hips. Her face. They are all suffering in their own private trauma. Struggling to find stability in the wake of Valentine’s terror.

They’ve all lost too much to simply move on.

“It’s Jace. He’s back.”


	9. Part Nine

 

 

Alec sits on the edge of the infirmary bed next to Jace. The room is bathed in a spectrum created by early morning light filtering through stained glass. But even that doesn’t bring any glow to Jace’s skin.

“Where were you?” Alec asks.

It’s a question he shouldn’t have to ask his parabatai at all. But Valentine has been dead for a month and Jace is only now returning.

Jace’s eyes are snaked with red, his cheeks sunken. A shudder passes through him that racks his entire body. “Valentine tried to break me, but I wouldn’t agree to fight with him against you. So he locked me up.”

Alec pulls the white blanket farther up Jace’s bruised, emaciated form. “Jace—”

“That’s not all.” Jace’s jaw tenses. “Valentine was working with a greater demon, Alec. He tortured me more after Valentine left.”

The Jace of only two months ago would’ve made a joke about that. Shrugged it off as a minor inconvenience to his day.

This Jace doesn’t.

Alec can barely draw in enough air to speak. “How did you even survive?”

Jace’s brow furrows. His words are spoken with deliberation as he looks to Alec. “I’m not sure yet that I did.”

Alec is in motion then, sliding onto the bed next to Jace so they are shoulder-to-shoulder again. Jace scrubs his hands over his face and Alec searches for a piece of his best friend in the man who sits next to him now.

Jace’s mismatched eyes are cloudy. Unfocused. Despite Jace’s uncertainty, this new, gray world is all too real.

Alec has to know.

“Did you—” He clenches his fists at the dull ache in his hands. Hands that haven’t touched Magnus in a month. “Did you see Magnus there?”

“Izzy already asked me that, and…. I only know what I heard while I was there, and I didn’t see him, but I know Magnus’ voice, and—” There are tears dropping from Jace’s eyes. Alec has never seen his parabatai cry. “Alec, I’m so sorry.”

The Jace that Alec knows doesn’t believe anyone should apologize for the evil that exists as part of this world.

But this Jace’s voice is all sharp edges and defeat. He’s begging for forgiveness.

“What are you sorry for?” Alec says quietly. He fears the answer. “You were being held against your will.”

“I couldn’t stop them, Alec. I couldn’t get out of my cell, and the things I heard—” Jace’s bloodshot eyes rake over Alec’s face. Pupils dilating. Breath ragged. “I’m sorry, brother. I’m sorry I couldn’t bring him back to you.”

Alec wraps Jace in his arms and Jace is shaking, hands clasped in Alec’s shirt as he gasps for breath.

“You’re home now, Jace,” he whispers into Jace’s ear. “You’re safe here.”

He pushes all thoughts of what Jace is telling him aside. Can’t focus on what it means. Not when his parabatai is breaking down in his arms.

He can’t think about Magnus right now.

One thread of his life has miraculously snapped back into place.

It will have to be enough to keep him moving.


	10. Part Ten

 

 

Alec settles into the bright orange couch in Magnus’ loft and turns to Catarina.

They’ve been meeting here once a week since Alec found the ring.

Cleaning. Making meals. Sharing stories.

This place won’t be abandoned or covered in dust when Magnus comes back.

It’s going to be lived in and cared for. Ready for Magnus to sleep in his own bed when he comes home.

“Jace said Valentine was working with a greater demon,” he says to Catarina. “Have you heard any rumors? Any clue whether that could’ve been Magnus’ father?”

Catarina taps her fingernails on the ceramic coffee mug in her hands. It’s one of Magnus’ favorites— _Bitch, I’m Fabulous_ printed on the side in bold, cursive lettering.

That mug in Magnus’ hands always made Alec laugh.

In Catarina’s, it’s a reminder that Alec will be sleeping very little tonight as he continues his search for Magnus.

Catarina sniffles and Alec’s tired eyes snap back up to hers.

“If it was Magnus’ father, then Magnus is dead, Alec.”

That night is the first time Alec cries.


	11. Part Eleven

 

 

One month turns into two.

Two months into six.

A year passes.

Then three.

There’s a gray haze in Alec’s vision that’s lingered since Magnus disappeared. Like the sun that Thursday morning seared his corneas. Scorched his clarity of purpose. Incinerated the promise that Magnus would live a much longer life than him.

It was a reality that Alec had just begun to accept—Alec was meant to die and Magnus would live.

That was how it was supposed to be.

Somehow it becomes five years since he last kissed Magnus.

Alec doesn’t understand how his heart is still beating.


	12. Part Twelve

 

 

Alec trudges into the Institute, the sleeves of his black jacket pocked with ichor-burned holes. He grimaces when he sees Jace in the command center.

Jace’s face mirrors his own. “Out on another solo mission to torture information out of demons?”

Alec doesn’t answer.

Jace grabs Alec’s arm as he tries to sweep past him. “Was this mission approved by the Clave?”

“What does the Clave care?” Alec spits out. He feels the vehemence of his words on his tongue. Rage is no longer foreign to him. Neither is recklessness. “I’m killing demons! I’m doing my job.”

Jace holds his hands up, his voice quiets. “You are. But Magnus wouldn’t want you to live like this, Alec. He’s dead. You have to accept that.”

Alec cringes. Stills.

It’s a sentiment he’s heard from Izzy too regularly for it to have any impact on him anymore.

But Jace—

Jace was broken when he returned to New York. Enough years have passed that Jace doesn’t flinch at the sight of a demon. He can smile until his dimples are popping out when Clary presses a kiss to his cheek.

Jace has healed. He can see good in this world again.

It doesn’t matter how many years pass, Alec will never get there without Magnus at his side.

But he wants to. _Fuck_. He wants to go back to who he was before Valentine.

Every time he visits Magnus’ loft he wants to believe that tomorrow will be the day Magnus comes home.

But he’s faltering. The unsteadiest he’s been in five years.

He’s filled with a desire for vengeance that has no target. Except for himself.

He has only himself to blame that Magnus is gone.

Alec flinches at the familiar self-hatred that sits heavy in his gut. It’s light in comparison to the weight of unfulfilled promises the gold ring on his finger reminds him of every day. Even if he’s not as sure anymore that Magnus is alive, he won’t stop searching.

Magnus wouldn’t stop fighting for him, so Alec will continue fighting until he brings Magnus home.

His connection to Magnus may be the only thread that hasn’t coiled itself back into place, but it’s the only one he’s sure he can’t be himself without.

Alec lifts his eyes to Jace. Responds even though he knows his voice will betray him.

“I can’t rest until I know he’s at rest too.”


	13. Part Thirteen

 

 

Magnus’ loft is cold tonight. There’s frost gathering on the windows. A heavy snow falling outside that blankets the city in silence.

Alec sits on the edge of Magnus’ bed, elbows on his knees, and listens to the quiet.

No matter what Jace says, Alec can’t accept Magnus is dead. Can’t give up hope. Bringing Magnus home isn’t a matter of responsibility or loyalty. It’s love.

The kind of love that isn’t convenient or safe.

The kind of love people overturn worlds for.

The axis of his life has been spinning out of control since Magnus disappeared—Alec himself inverting his morals, his path. This is not how he intended to live his life. This is not how he intended to love Magnus Bane.

But it’s all he has now.

He forces himself to his feet and goes to turn up the heat. He won’t allow it to be cold in here when Magnus comes home.

The gemstone on his finger is flat black as he lifts his hand to the thermostat. The blue depths muted by the shadows overtaking the loft. He’s worn this ring for longer than he and Magnus were together, and—

A thought flits through Alec’s synapses, teasing at the edges of his understanding. Alec stares at the void in the ring and knows…. He’s been untangling and reweaving the thread of his life for years now, seeking the connection that would lead to him to Magnus. But, too frustrated and overwhelmed with his search, he’s never considered he’s been using the wrong thing to track Magnus all along.

There’s nothing, _no one_ , that’s been touched—physically or metaphorically—more by Magnus than Alec himself.

Alec palms his stele and activates his tracking rune, closing his fist tightly.

The rune burns into his skin with an audible sizzle, but this pain is welcome. He closes his eyes and remembers.

_The golden cast of Magnus’ skin. Magnus’ muscles shifting as Alec ran a fingertip down Magnus’ spine._

_The red of Magnus’ mouth. Free of gloss because Alec spent hours worshipping his lips._

_The pinks and purples and blues of Magnus’ wardrobe. Vibrant colors worn as an external marking of Magnus’ internal self-assuredness as they roamed the streets hand in hand on the first day of summer._

_The black of kohl circling Magnus’ eyes. Eyes that flashed green in the darkness of a club as Magnus grabbed Alec’s hips and pulled him closer._

_The yellow of Magnus’ most recent set of sheets…._

Alec never got attached to any furniture or linens because they could vanish, replaced with one snap, at any time. But those sheets were the last place he laid side by side with Magnus. Tucked under Magnus’ arm. Alec situated on Magnus’ chest where he could be closest to Magnus’ heart. Where he could hear that reassuring thrum the strongest.

A warmth settles into Alec’s core and chases away the chill from his bones.

Instead of nothing, he feels…home.

This place. This loft.

For the first time in five years, he feels a connection to Magnus.

And everything inside him is telling him Magnus is here.

But when he opens his eyes, the loft is just as silent as it’s been for half a decade.

“What are you doing to yourself, Lightwood?” he mumbles.

But that warmth is taking hold. Easing his muscles. Slowing his heartbeat. Emptying his head of all other thoughts except the repeated litany of _home, home, home_.

Now warmer than he’s been in years, Alec leaves the thermostat untouched, passes by the entrance to the kitchen and….

Magnus is sitting at the table.

Morning sun is pouring through the windows.

Breakfast is on the table.

Prisms from the blue tanzanite ring dance along the walls as Magnus lifts an elegant hand to run through his hair.

Alec peers at his own hand and the ring is no longer there. Only the indentations from wearing that ring every day for the last five years remain. He doesn’t understand what’s happening.

He’s more aware than most that magic makes anything possible, but he’s terrified this isn’t real.

Alec takes one step inside the kitchen. “Are you really here?”

Magnus doesn’t look at Alec.

Doesn’t seem to hear Alec’s voice at all.

Magnus’ brow furrows. He’s studying the room as if he doesn’t recognize where he is.

“Magnus.” Alec doesn’t realize how long it’s been since he last said that name out loud until it’s past his lips. It’s a plea. A prayer. “Please.”

Magnus’ cat eyes narrow, gaze focused on his fingertips—orbs of light dancing off his hands. Hands Alec wasn’t sure Magnus would have at all when he did come home.

Then, “Alexander?”

Alec curls into himself. It’s been even longer since he last heard that name cross those lips.

“Why aren’t you looking at me?” He swallows against the clenching of his throat. “I’m right here.”

Sparks fly off Magnus’ hands, swirl around Magnus’s body, enveloping him in a bright blue light that stretches across the room until Alec is engulfed in it too. Magnus’ head snaps up, eyes immediately going to Alec.

And Magnus smiles. “I’ve missed you more than you can imagine, Alexander.”

Magnus stands just as Alec is crashing into him. Magnus buries his face into Alec’s neck, lips pressed to Alec’s skin. Alec feels Magnus’ heart beating and inhales a shuddering breath.

“You’re really here,” Alec rasps. “It’s been so long. I didn’t—”

Alec’s lungs fill. A choked sob escapes from his throat. Magnus kisses the tears from Alec’s cheeks when Alec should be the one who is comforting him.

“Don’t cry, my nephilim. It will all be okay,” Magnus says, his voice cracking. Magnus cradles Alec’s face—soft hands, warm skin, and the reassuring weight of Magnus’ magic surrounding him. “I need you to keep fighting, okay? Please don’t give up.”

Alec stills. Searches Magnus’ face. “Why would I have to keep fighting? I have you here now.”

“Alexander.” Magnus kisses him slowly–sadly–then slides his cheek against Alec’s, lips brushing Alec’s ear. “Please, my love. I need you to wake up.”


	14. Part Fourteen

 

 

_…wake up?_

Alec can’t breathe.

In the living room, he sees a white crash of snow—a blizzard tearing through the loft despite the closed windows.

In the kitchen, the golden, welcoming cast of morning sun passing through Magnus’ form and falling hot on Alec’s shoulders.

There is the scent of strawberries, sweet in the air. And the bitterness of cold, each pelt of ice nipping at him as the winter storm rages around him.

There’s warmth and solidness in the press of Magnus’ hands to his neck, and he tries to tether himself to the sensation. But it’s as if the phantom wind is trying to rip Magnus away from him.

Alec fists his hands in the lapels of Magnus’ silver-threaded jacket and places his forehead against Magnus’, closing his eyes, trying to shut out the inexplicable chaos swirling around him.

“I can’t lose you again,” he pleads. His lips still tingle from the softness of Magnus’ mouth against his.

“You haven’t lost me at all,” Magnus insists. His voice is an echo in Alec’s head. There’s silence in his ears. “But if you don’t continue fighting for yourself, Alexander, I’m going to lose you.”

Alec shakes his head. “We’re in your home— You’re here—”

“I’m not.”

Alec’s heart skitters, thumps an unsteady beat, as Magnus’ warmth begins to fade. He opens his eyes to find his hands clasped into Magnus wearing one of Alec’s faded black t-shirts. Magnus’ face is haggard. His skin a sickly shade of gray.

“I don’t understand,” Alec pleads. There’s so much fear in his voice, and a darkness rippling under his skin.

“I know you don’t, and I’m sorry. I’m depleting the magic I need— But I had to keep trying to reach you.” Magnus cups Alec’s jaw. The touch is muted. “Please come home to me.”

“How? If you’re not here and we’re not in your loft…. Magnus, I don’t know what’s happening.”

“That you can feel me means we haven’t lost you yet. You’re still alive. You’re still _you_ , Alexander, but— But we’re running out of time.”

He doesn’t understand. He trusts Magnus, though. “Tell me what I have to do.”

Magnus’ cat eyes narrow. His dry, gnawed-on lips tug into a frown.

“Magnus. Please.”

There is a sadness in Magnus’ eyes that Alec has never seen before. “Be strong, my Shadowhunter.”

Already he feels the protective embrace of Magnus’ magic withdrawing.

He can’t let go. Can’t bear the thought of not having Magnus with him.

He can’t be alone again.

“Tell me what I have to do to get back to you,” he begs. His desperation tastes as metallic as blood.

“Be strong,” Magnus repeats, placing a tender kiss to Alec’s lips.

Alec’s hands empty, and the band of Magnus’ tanzanite ring tightens around his finger. The sunlight fades from the room and the storm stills….

“Magnus, he’s too weak.” Izzy’s voice comes to him like a drifting, faraway cadence carried by the wind. “His body can’t take this.”

“It’s not his body I’m worried about,” Magnus snaps. His anger is palpable. “Leave now.”

Alec knows all of those words, but their context is as indecipherable as a dead language.

“I’m sorry, my Alexander.” Magnus’ voice is merely a whisper in his head. “This is going to hurt.”

That Alec understands. Believes. Tries to prepare himself for.

But he can’t.

Alec’s chest rips open. His heart is torn from his body.

All he can do is scream.


	15. Part Fifteen

 

 

The floor under Alec’s feet fissures, fractures, and Alec stumbles.

He scrambles away from the yawning abyss and his vision shifts. Goes flat.

_The gray and black of Magnus’ headstone over an empty grave._

_The black of Magnus’ hair, soft on his fingertips._

He’s standing at the edges of two worlds.

A world without Magnus, and one with.

His skin cracks. Molten sludge sears his flesh, slipping out of his veins with every beat of a heart he thought wasn’t there at all.

The world where Magnus exists is a dream, a violent conjuring of his desperation to have Magnus at his side again.

He clutches at the yellow sheets under him with one hand, and the crumbling wall of the loft with the other. But there’s too much blackened blood on his hands—pouring from his eyes, his mouth, his chest and off his fingertips—and he can’t hold on. His grasp slips.

He’s sinking, being dragged down into an ugliness that invades the fibers of his lungs with each frantic inhale until he feels like he’s drowning.

Magnus was taken.

Magnus was brutalized by Valentine.

Magnus is dead.

Alec is too battered to fight.

It’s too easy to be swallowed again by the hollowness of his grief.

_Be strong_ , he hears Magnus say.

He grinds his teeth until he can taste copper on his tongue.

“Don’t be quiet,” Magnus demands. “Don’t hold it in. Fight against the pain. It hurts because you’re alive.”

_Be strong._

_Be strong._

_Be strong._

He hears Magnus repeating.

Magnus’ voice is in his head and in his ear. He can’t discern which world the only voice he wants to hear belongs to.

“Please come home to me,” Magnus begs.

He doesn’t know where home is anymore.

He feels the cord of his life unraveling.

_The crimson of Valentine’s blood._

_The black of ichor-burned holes._

_The brown of freshly turned earth over an empty grave._

Tendrils of light snake through him, pulling at the fraying, snapping, threads of his life. They reach out for him, grasping for a hold on him as Alec’s heartbeat stutters, begins to fade. Alec doesn’t know how to reach back.

“Don’t leave me, Alexander!” Magnus sobs. The slickness of tears drop on Alec’s skin.

The warmth of Magnus’ magic surges through his veins, turning him inside out, and deconstructing him cell by cell until it’s as if he has no physical form at all.

He doesn’t want to leave Magnus.

Can’t.

Magnus isn’t one thread—he’s woven throughout every piece of Alec’s existence.

_Magnus_ is home.

_Be strong_ , he remembers.

He shudders, shivers, arches off the bed and yells until his throat is raw.

His eyes slam open.

He gasps for breath….

But all he sees is red.


	16. Part Sixteen

 

 

Alec blinks. Swallows. Then winces from the pain. He’s lying in a bed, and he’s alone. All he can scratch out against the burning in his lungs and throat is a one-word plea.

“Magnus.”

“Shhh, my nephilim,” Magnus says as the bed dips down next to Alec. A cool cloth wipes across his forehead. Magnus appears over him, and just like everything else in his vision, Magnus is cast in a haze of red. 

There are tear tracks down Magnus’ cheeks. His gaze is wary.

“You–” Alec tries to say, but can barely get that one word past his lips.

“Don’t try to speak yet,” Magnus chides gently. “You burst some of the blood vessels in your eyes. But I’m too weak to fix that completely right now. I’m doing what I can, but it’s going to take time. Let me take care of your voice first.”

Blue sparks sputter off Magnus’ fingers—mere remnants of Magnus’ full power—as he traces a line down Alec’s throat, and the sting inside Alec’s neck eases.

Alec looks around him. They’re in their loft. In their bedroom. His chest constricts. He’s too weak to survive if this isn’t real. “You’re really here?”

Magnus audibly breathes a sigh of relief. His shoulders sag.

“I am.” Magnus places a soft kiss on Alec’s forehead. “And so are you.”

Violent, disturbing images pour through his head, and Alec can’t separate the truth from delusion. Still doesn’t understand what happened.

He furrows his brow. “Valentine— Does he still have Jace?”

“We defeated Valentine long ago. Jace is at the Institute. Everyone is. I made them leave because—” Magnus hesitates, his cat eyes contracting for only a second. His features gentle. “We’ve all been waiting for you to wake up.”

Alec doesn’t know how he got here, but he’s aware enough now to recognize he’s been injured somehow. And that Magnus doesn’t simply wait for anything. “How long have you been working on me?”

Magnus, untethered to the concept of time, seems to be considering that. “I believe it’s been almost a month.”

Alec sucks in a panicked breath. Tries to sit up and a jagged bolt of pain spears through his head.

“Move slowly, Alexander.” Magnus soothes him down again into the pillows. “You need to take your time.”

Tears prickle at the corners of his eyes. “What happened to me?”

Magnus runs his hand through Alec’s hair. Leans in and brushes his fingertips over Alec’s cheek. “You were attacked by a Kuri demon on your way home. If Jace hadn’t felt you go down…. You were nearly killed.”

Magnus has the tone he reserves for clients when he’s skirting the truth.

Alec’s heartbeat speeds. “How close to nearly?”

“I think you’re more aware of that answer than I am.”

“I didn’t know I was close to death at all.” Alec inhales. Shivers at the thought of just how vulnerable he was, and had no understanding of that. “You came to me. Said we were running out of time….”

Magnus shakes his head. “We didn’t, though.”

Alec takes all of Magnus in. Doesn’t dare look away, even though everything in his vision is a patchwork of red. He’s terrified Magnus is going to disappear again.

_This world is real_ , he tries to convince himself.

But Alec is plagued with memories of pain and death. That his parabatai was tortured. That he killed Valentine in cold blood. That the date on Magnus’ headstone was a Thursday….

He grasps for the remembrances slowly filtering back into his consciousness. Sifts through the horrific images flashing through his mind to find the steadiness of one reality. Of the world he belongs in.

Magnus is alive.

Magnus is here.

_This_ is the world he belongs in.

It was he who was attacked–not Magnus. Always him on the verge of death. He lived that Thursday, and the years of loneliness afterwards, only in his mind.

“It was a Wednesday,” Alec grits out.

Magnus stitches his eyebrows together. “I don’t understand.”

“I was attacked on a Wednesday.”

A weary smile crosses Magnus’ lips. “My love, you can think about filling out incident reports much, much later.”

The teasing lilt of Magnus’ voice is humor in the midst of chaos. An insolent dismissal of danger that Alec only hears when fighting back-to-back with Magnus. The familiarity of that sound, and the knowledge that he had Magnus at his back–fighting for him always, even when he wasn’t aware he was at risk–steadfastly anchors Alec to this world.

He experimentally cranes his neck from side to side, rolls his shoulder, lifts his arms, and begins to flex his fingers…. Finding the tanzanite ring on the same finger he wore it in his demented visions.

Magnus reaches out and touches the blue stone. “You were wearing my wedding ring when we found you.”

Alec sucks in a breath and stills.

This ring wasn’t a gift picked out in the spur of the moment. It was weeks of Magnus contemplating the perfect choice–because it was the one piece of jewelry he’d rarely take off.

Alec remembers now. He picked it up from being repaired after the mission that night, and was headed home to give it back to Magnus.

Magnus frowns. “When I tried to take it off…you got worse.”

“I thought it was the only connection I had left to you anymore.” Alec touches his thumb to the ring. Turns it until it catches the light, prisms dancing across Magnus’ tired features. “Everyone was telling me you were dead. But I wouldn’t accept it.”

Magnus grimaces. “I know that feeling all too well.”

Alec understands what Magnus is telling him. “They thought I wasn’t going to live.”

“They saw you suffering, and hurt with you. It was…difficult.” 

Izzy. Jace. Max. His parents. Their sons. His stomach twists at the thought of any of them in pain because of him. Alec searches Magnus’ face. “And you?”

Magnus swipes a sudden tear from the corner of his eye. “You’re alive. That’s all that matters.”

“ _You’re_ alive–” Alec begins, but his voice cracks. He can’t tamp down the echoes of sorrow sliding through him. “Everything I saw was so real.”

Magnus inhales a ragged breath. “That’s because the Kuri demon poison is meant to keep the body alive, but trap the mind in a state of despair and terror–so the victim can be slowly fed upon. Isabelle killed the demon, but we were too late to stop the spread of the poison.”

Alec winces. Understands now why Magnus was telling him to remain strong. He swears he can still feel the burn of that poison, that blackened blood, being drawn from his veins.

“The mind goes before the body does, and with how long it was taking—” Magnus’ face contorts. This time, he lets his tears fall. “Where did you think you were, Alexander?”

He doesn’t have to struggle to remember. He wishes he did.

He brushes away Magnus’ tears, and Magnus settles his cheek into Alec’s palm, then sets his hand on Alec’s chest. The warmth of Magnus’ skin against his is calming. A tether.

This connection–this care and devotion–was exactly what Alec couldn’t live without.

He can’t give voice yet to what he experienced. “I never want to go back there again.”

Magnus sighs and curls up next to him, wrapping his arm around Alec. Fingers lightly skimming Alec’s side as if he’s seeking reassurance that Alec is breathing, that his heart is still beating.

“I don’t know what I would’ve done if I had lost you,” Magnus murmurs.

Alec struggles to contain the grief welling up inside him.

_This world is real_ , he reminds himself. _Magnus is alive._

Those supposed five years of hell were a demon poison-induced hallucination. A nightmare he nearly didn’t wake up from. But he can’t separate himself from the vestiges of guilt-ridden heartbreak, heavy in his chest.

He knows exactly what he would do if he thought he’d lost Magnus. Remembers the dark recesses of his own being that he was willing to coax to the surface if it meant bringing Magnus back to him.

He knows Magnus would go to the same lengths for him.

“Everyone is at the Institute because you had to use a demonic spell on me, didn’t you?”

Magnus tenses. Lifts his head so he can look Alec in the eye. “It was the only chance of saving you. I had to separate your…memories from your body to extract the rest of the poison.”

But Alec understands now that the sensation of being surrounded by Magnus’ magic—cradled, protected—yet having no physical form was much more than that. “You held my soul in your hands.”

Magnus doesn’t answer that with words. He brushes a feather light touch over Alec’s eyelids, the pressure easing, and when Alec opens his eyes again the room is awash in full color.

The burnished bronze and rich teak of their four-poster bed.

Silver-gray blanket and yellow sheets.

The blue of the tanzanite ring as Alec slides it off his finger and on Magnus’—where it was always meant to be.

A reminder not to take for granted even a second of the time they have left.

He’ll never be able to forget what it felt like to lose Magnus, but maybe it’s better that he won’t.

Alec wraps his arms around Magnus, the reassuring beat of his husband’s heart strong. Vibrant. Alive.

“I’m sorry I hurt you,” Magnus whispers.

“No, Magnus….”

Alec places a kiss on Magnus’ head, the black strands of hair tickling at his cheek. The scent of Magnus’ magic thick in the air. Traffic rushing in a quiet hush outside their loft. And the soothing comfort of Magnus’ arms around him. 

“…you brought me home.”

**Author's Note:**

> yelling happens here or on tumblr @otppurefuckingmagic ♡ xx


End file.
